


To The Victor

by exbex



Series: Parzimbits [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/pseuds/exbex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kent chuckles. “That chirpy little fucker.” When he looks up, Jack looks equal parts frustrated and turned on. He licks his bottom lip and Kent almost wants to relent and drop to his knees, but the promise of what’s waiting in Jack’s bedroom gets Kent to move his feet. He shoves his hands casually into his pockets and slowly walks backwards, Jack following as if he’s being pulled by some invisible thread. “Maybe you would’ve played a little harder if you’d known that your boyfriend’s legs were going to be wrapped around me at the end of the night.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	To The Victor

**Author's Note:**

> Check Please! belongs to Ngozi Ukazu

Bitty sends the text while he’s streaming the game. Kent hasn’t even seen it, but somehow he knows that the glare that Jack gives him when he finally walks through the door of Jack’s condo is only partially attributed to the Aces’ victory itself. It’s a frustrated glare, eyebrows all furrowed and eyes slightly narrowed, but there’s a fond, exasperated smile threatening to tug at the corners of Jack’s mouth.

Kent raises his own eyebrows in question.

“You haven’t checked your phone yet, have you?”

Kent pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through to the one from Bitty, and his breath hitches as he reads it, but he can’t keep a smirk from cracking his face.

-I’ve got a plug in. The winner gets to fuck me while the loser watches. :) 

Kent chuckles. “That chirpy little fucker.” When he looks up, Jack looks equal parts frustrated and turned on. He licks his bottom lip and Kent almost wants to relent and drop to his knees, but the promise of what’s waiting in Jack’s bedroom gets Kent to move his feet. He shoves his hands casually into his pockets and slowly walks backwards, Jack following as if he’s being pulled by some invisible thread. “Maybe you would’ve played a little harder if you’d known that your boyfriend’s legs were going to be wrapped around me at the end of the night.”

Jack purses his lips, and it should not be sexy, but Kent can read him like a book and he can see that Jack is equal parts proud and jealous. Kent takes a moment to think about how he never could have predicted the craziness that is his life but that he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“You just love to take whatever I want, don’t you Parse?” There’s no malice in his tone; it’s all flirtation and Kent would feel an ounce of pity for Jack’s impending frustration, but he knows that Jack is going to come his brains out from watching, for one, and that Jack gets to have Bitty-in his bed, in his arms, so much more often than Kent gets to have either of them, and Kent should feel jealous, or at least wistful, but all he feels is giddy.

Kent is rock hard by the time he approaches Bitty, naked and all stretched out, eyes half-lidded.

“Take your time with those clothes, Parson,” Bitty drawls. “I’m all ready for you.” Bitty idly turns his attention to Jack. “Now you, Mr. Zimmermann, just keep your hands on those armrests.”

Jack is sitting in the comfortable chair adjacent to the bed, his eyes widening at the order, breath hitching. Kent has to look away from the way Jack’s fingers clench the armrests. He focuses on Bitty’s face, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and letting his clothing fall away, relishing the blush of arousal that is spreading across Bitty’s chest as Bitty gazes at him hungrily. Kent knows he doesn’t have Jack’s Greek god physique, but he knows he’s nothing to sneeze at either. 

Bitty slides down so that his lower half is nearly hanging off the edge. Kent bites his lip as Bitty wraps his legs around his waist, as his hands take hold of Bitty’s hips, as he slides in. He closes his eyes and doesn’t risk looking at either Bitty or Jack, because if he does it’ll be over before he wants it to be.

“Zimms,” he breathes, “I feel so sorry for you right now. This is better than winning the Stanley Cup.”

“Mmm,” Bitty replies, “Better than sweet tea in July.” It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to Kent.

Kent barely has his faculties together as it is, so overwhelmed by the sensations of thrusting and rocking, wondering if his legs are going to give out on him, when his mind almost completely short circuits at Bitty’s next directive. “Jack, get over here so I can swallow your cock.”

For a moment, Kent wonders if Jack, in all his Canadianness, is going to ask if Bitty’s sure, but Jack is no idiot, and Kent is duly impressed at the speed with which he shucks out of his clothes and climbs up on the bed. For a moment it looks as if the logistics aren’t going to work out; Jack is clumsily trying to position himself, but if the laws of physics are against them, they are no match for one determined Zimmermann.

Kent tries to last a little longer, he really does. But Bitty is taking Jack into his mouth as if he’s starving for him, and Jack’s eyes are fluttering nearly closed, but at the last moment Jack is reaching for Kent and laying his hands on his shoulders (and how in the hell is he managing to balance so easily anyway?) and kissing Kent as if nothing else matters in this moment, and Kent wonders if he might just black out from an orgasm. 

He doesn’t, of course, even if it is the best damn orgasm he’s ever had. Instead he drops to his knees, and, feeling a bit sheepish due to his negligence, starts to return the favor. 

He puts his best performance into it, swirling his tongue in the way that he knows Bitty likes, trying very hard not to be distracted by the things Jack is murmuring to Bitty and how they’re equal parts filthy and loving, and when Bitty gasps and arches up and practically chokes him, Kent swallows every drop like the offering it is. 

Kent and Jack are hasty in cleaning themselves up with Jack’s discarded t-shirt, but are slow and careful with Bitty, who, even with a dazed, blissed expression on his face, utters protests when they start massaging his back and his hips; “I’m not the one who played a game tonight boys,” as if he hasn’t just completely dominated them and as if he isn’t the damn Stanley Cup and Holy Grail rolled into one.

**

Kent is laying on his side and just watching the two of them. There’s so many things he wants to say, like ‘I can’t believe I’m this lucky,’ and ‘I was so wrong about so many things,’ and ‘I love you.’ He lamely settles for a chirpy “You two are so pretty,” and ignores the way his heart races a bit.

Jack’s eyes are soft and his mouth threatens a smirk before turning gentle. “Well, especially lying next to you, we are,” he chirps. And somehow between that and the way Bitty murmurs “Now y’all shush,” in mock exasperation, Kent hears what they’re really saying.


End file.
